


human and hooked (on your flesh)

by fromthemist



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha Miya Atsumu, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Atsumu has a big dick, Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Dirty Talk, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sakusa Kiyoomi, Praise Kink, Pre-Friends With Benefits, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, Rimming, Sakusa has anxiety, Self-Lubrication, Top Miya Atsumu, atsumu will do anything to win, even if it means fucking his teammate, it’s possibly a monster cock but idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthemist/pseuds/fromthemist
Summary: “It’s my heat, you idiot!” Sakusa spits the words out venomously, and Atsumu’s brain goes screeching to a halt. “I can’t play because I’ll be in heat. Are you fucking happy now?”↳a pre-fwb omegaverse au,where omega!sakusa doesn't have a heat partner, and alpha!atsumu will do anything to win.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 121
Kudos: 1612
Collections: (seijoh_amour), HQ Thirstmas 2020, SAKUATSU TROPE BINGO, SakuAtsu Fics for Midterm Procrastination, carnal haikyuu fics, read haikyuu fics, stories that touched me





	human and hooked (on your flesh)

**Author's Note:**

> a fic that was supposed to be just pwp, but turned into 50% plot and 50% smut. i see lots of alpha!omi/omega!tsumu fics, but wanted to try my hand at flipping it around. this is also my first time writing omegaverse so please forgive me for any mistakes!
> 
> thank you to [nicki](https://twitter.com/ttodomomo), [kim](https://twitter.com/ochakouo) and [amii](https://twitter.com/amiicee_lokei) for betaing 💖
> 
> **CW** : there is a mention of kiyoomi having panic attacks due to anxiety, and it's implied that he suffers from sensory overload at times, but there are no explicit descriptions/scenes of such in the fic. just want to give a heads up!

Atsumu knows, _technically_ , that Sakusa Kiyoomi is an omega – but according to most metrics, he’s a really, _really_ weird one.

To start with – he hates _people_. Sakusa spends weeks rebuffing any attempts to get to know him, remaining cold and distant until time starts to wear him down. Even then, he always wears a pained grimace when he’s surrounded by any more than two people, save for when it wavers into a slight smile after a particularly disgusting serve or spike. It doesn’t make much sense when one considers that volleyball is a team sport – he doesn’t even react to Bokuto or Hinata beyond a deadpan expression and a blunt answer, and rarely graces Atsumu with anything short of an insult.

For someone who’s supposed to be loving and nurturing by nature, Sakusa – a textbook misanthrope, prickly and uncompromising and difficult in all the worst ways – is most definitely _not_. 

Secondly, he’s _huge_. Decent looking, as much as Atsumu hates to admit it, but Sakusa is 192 centimeters of lean muscle and floppy wrists when the average Japanese omega is usually roughly thirty centimeters shorter. Admittedly, it’s not really a big deal – Atsumu has seen omegas larger than Sakusa, though they’re usually foreigners – but _again,_ it’s just… weird. Atsumu is used to being the taller one when standing next to an omega; he likes the size difference, likes the way he can wrap himself around his partners that way. He’s not used to the roles being reversed.

Not that Atsumu wants Sakusa to be his, to be clear. And it’s not that Atsumu is bitter about being shorter. Not at all.

Thirdly, Sakusa is an ungrateful asshole. Atsumu isn’t all peaches and cream himself, but he's gotten a lot better since presenting after high school – chalk it up to late-blooming older brother instincts, but Atsumu likes taking care of people. As a teammate, Sakusa falls into the category of sort-of-friend by sheer proximity and circumstance alone, so Atsumu finds himself carrying hand sanitizer and wet wipes for Sakusa the same way he keeps an extra pair of socks for when Bokuto inevitably forgets to do his laundry, or a spare Epi-Pen for Inunaki’s shellfish allergy. And sure, part of him does it for Bokuto’s crushing hugs, or Inunaki’s grateful hair ruffle that one time the waiter forgets to mention that the croquettes are made with crab, but a larger part comes from latent alpha biology. He likes feeling like he’s _needed_. 

Not that he wants Sakusa to _need_ him – he’s not expecting a gushing exclamation of thanks for a wet wipe – but something more than a blank stare or scowl would be fantastic.

And last, if not most importantly – Sakusa doesn’t smell. Or rather, he does – he _should_ – but in the six months since joining the Jackals, Atsumu has never once caught a whiff of Sakusa’s scent. This one is less of an omega thing and more just a Sakusa thing, but it drives Atsumu absolutely bonkers – it’s not an issue on the court, since they’re required to use blockers during official games anyways, but Sakusa’s never _not_ using them. He shows up to practices with patches over his scent glands, even showering with them still on, and Atsumu has seen the prescription bottles of blocker pills lining the top shelf of Sakusa’s locker. It’s probably what frustrates Atsumu the most.

Four years in the pro league has taught him that cultivating a good rapport with his spikers is key to getting the most out of them – but Atsumu’s job as a setter becomes exponentially more difficult when he can’t use scent cues to figure out how his hitter is feeling, to figure out how to better cater to their needs. Atsumu is left to coax Sakusa out of his spiky little shell with the sheer force of his personality alone, and it’s _agonizing_. Admittedly, he’s making _some_ progress, but more often than not, Atsumu wants to just rip those stupid patches off of Sakusa’s neck so he can finally figure the guy out. 

His only consolation is that Hinata is infinitely more reasonable about things, and they sync up almost perfectly within the first days of practice. Getting to the same level with Sakusa takes literal _months_ , and infinitely more bickering.

Still – hours of constant exposure have done a lot to help find a comfortable rhythm with Sakusa on the court. Atsumu is still pretty clueless about Sakusa outside of volleyball, but he’s grown to learn all of Sakusa’s strange little habits: the meticulous stretching regimen, the aversion to touch, even the way he brings a stack of antibacterial towels to each practice, using each exactly three times before reaching for a new one. He learns to read the quirk of Sakusa’s lip and the cock of an eyebrow, develops a rivalry over quick-witted barbs and snarky trash talk, and even manages to draw out a half-muffled chuckle on one memorable occasion. 

Atsumu wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends, but at the end of the day, he respects Sakusa. He trusts him to get the job done, and sleeps well knowing that he’s serious about volleyball.

Because at the end of the day, that’s the most important thing. _Volleyball_. 

After fucking up his shoulder early last season, Atsumu is out for blood and redemption, back in top form following a slew of surgeries and almost a year of physical therapy. With an upgraded starting lineup, Atsumu has his eyes on only two things – the League Cup, and a spot on the National Team roster for the 2020 Olympics.

So, when Meian announces that Sakusa is taking two weeks of medical leave right when the season starts – just as their first games against the Adlers, against EJP and the Falcons are coming up, back-to-back – Atsumu sees _red_.

* * *

“So. Medical leave, huh?” Atsumu cocks his head, his drawl a little more pronounced. The locker rooms are empty aside from just the two of them, the steam making the air wet and heavy, and Sakusa pauses in the middle of packing up his things to look up at Atsumu with that same, constipated glare. “What, are ya sick? Dyin’ or somethin’?”

“Careful, Miya.” Sakusa draws himself up to his full height to stare down at Atsumu haughtily. “It almost sounds like you care.”

“Well, when one of my hitters decides to take a vacation right as the season starts, yeah. I care.” Atsumu smiles unkindly, crossing his arms. “Two weeks? I didn’t think ya were the type to abandon yer teammates so easily, Omi-kun.” 

“It’s not a vacation and I’m not abandoning anyone, so you can fuck off with the dramatics,” Sakusa says, brows knitting tight. “The team will be fine. Hinata and Bokuto can support Hondo – just play like you always do.”

_Just play like you always do._ Atsumu hates people who say shit like that. Just do this, just do that – like it’s easy. Like Atsumu hadn’t just spent the last six months out here busting his ass, trying to work around Sakusa’s stupid proclivities to make sure he’s giving it his all. Like it’s okay to suddenly cut off your arm and pretend like it’s a fair fight – like it’s okay if they _lose_.

Hell. No.

“That’s bullshit and ya know it.” Atsumu bares his teeth in a not-so-nice grin. “We’ve been practicin’ with the new lineup for fuckin’ months, and now yer gonna hightail it outta town, just before our first game? Why the fuck did ya bother signin’ on if yer gonna fuck off right when the season starts?”

Atsumu doesn’t need to see Sakusa’s face to know that he’s curling his lip in a sneer. “It’s two weeks, Miya,” he retorts. “And my reasons are my own. I don’t need to explain anything to you.”

“Better be a good fuckin’ reason if yer missin’ out on three games in a row for some wishy-washy medical excuse,” Atsumu says, glowering at Sakusa. “Ya ain’t sick and ya ain’t gonna keel over – so what the hell d’ya need two fuckin’ weeks off for, huh?

“It’s none of your damn business,” Sakusa says quietly. _Dangerously_. It feels a little like he’s poking a sleeping bear, but Atsumu can’t help the little fissure of excitement that shoots up his spine, smoothly mixing with his anger and sending an addictive wave of adrenaline bursting in his gut.

“Just fess up, ya prickly bastard.” Atsumu rolls his eyes – dealing with Sakusa is always a little difficult, but this time it feels like pulling teeth. “What’s so damn important – ”

“I already said that I’m not – ”

“ – that yer skippin’ the chance t’crush Motoya-kun – ”

“ – Miya, I swear to fucking God, if you don’t – ”

“ – or is that it? Yer scared of facin’ those damn birds – ”

“It’s my heat, you idiot!” Sakusa spits the words out venomously, and Atsumu’s brain goes screeching to a halt. “I can’t play because I’ll be in heat. Are you fucking happy now?” 

_Oh_.

Anger drains out of him, leaving a flustered blush in its wake as Atsumu nearly chokes on his own spit. Right – Sakusa is an omega. Omegas have heats. Sakusa is going to be in heat.

His mind unhelpfully conjures up an image of Sakusa’s face – cheeks flushed and mouth open, crying desperately for an alpha’s knot – and against all logical explanation, Atsumu has to swallow around the cotton that appears at the back of his throat, trying to shove the mental picture out of his head. 

It doesn’t work. 

_Fuck._

Why the hell is he reacting like this?

“Who the fuck has a two-week long heat?” he sputters, pointedly ignoring the way his cock twitches in his sweats. “They’re supposed t’last a few days at most – if it was one game, fine, but there’s no fuckin’ excuse for missin’ all three. ”

Sakusa, if possible, hunches even more. His shoulders are up to his reddening ears, and the normal grimace on his face is twisted into embarrassment, visible even around his mask. He looks like he’s at war with himself – the furrow between his fine black brows deep and worried – before he lets out a sigh. 

“I’ve been taken off suppressants, so I have six months of heats to make up for.” Sakusa sounds a little strange. Weary, maybe, if Atsumu has to put a word to it. Defensive. “An alpha could get me through it in four days. Without one, I’ll be out of commission for twelve.”

Sakusa leaves it at that – and despite what other people may think, Atsumu isn’t a total moron.

“Ya don’t have an alpha to help ya?” For whatever reason, his gut swoops as he awaits the answer with trepidation.

Sakusa’s expression sours. “... No.” 

Atsumu blinks once, twice – and demands, “Why the fuck not?”

“You really can’t come up with _any_ reason?” Sakusa tosses him a flat glare. “Not even one?”

Right, the germ thing. The whole ‘I-hate-people-don’t-touch-me’ thing. Atsumu frowns, and suddenly, a thought comes to mind.

“Wait. Have you never had someone to help you with your heat?” He gapes. “Are you a _virgin_?”

Sakusa’s face, what little that shows around the mask, goes pink. Still, it doesn’t stop him from straightening back up, chin lifted in a show of defiance. “So what if I am?”

In any other circumstance, Atsumu would jump on the opportunity to poke and prod, to see how far he can push until Sakusa snaps. This time, however, he lets it go, the cogs in his head already turning. Oddly, something inside him sighs in relief, the anxiety bleeding away to make room for a deep-rooted, primal urge rising in his chest at the thought of an omega – of Sakusa – spending his heat alone when a perfectly good, perfectly ready alpha is standing right in front of him. 

_Wait. What?_

Atsumu shakes his head, pushing back his animal hindbrain and opening his mouth to offer a snarky, half-sympathetic insult masquerading as an apology. Instead, what comes out is –

“– well, I could do it.” 

Sakusa freezes. Atsumu does too, after his head finally catches up to his mouth – and for a moment, the two of them stand frozen in the locker room, in absolute silence, staring at each other. 

Despite the mask covering the bottom half of Sakusa’s face, Atsumu can see emotions racing across those dark eyes, clear as day. A flash of surprise, then disgust and abject horror – something that eats at Atsumu’s pride as an alpha, hurts a little, even – before shifting into confusion and suspicion and disbelief.

Sakusa’s voice comes out strangled. “Is this your idea of a joke?” 

Atsumu opens his mouth, then shuts it right after. The right thing to do would be to say “yes” – he should laugh it off and make an excuse to get the hell out of dodge, because he just propositioned his virgin omega teammate for _heat sex_. On top of that, Atsumu knows his track record with relationships better than anyone, and fucking Sakusa is a disaster just waiting to happen.

And yet – even as the words linger at the tip of his tongue – Atsumu can’t bring himself to say them.

When Atsumu signed his first pro-volleyball contract straight out of high school, he promised himself to never mix business with pleasure. He refused to let anything come between him and his dream, even if it meant leaving behind a trail of one-night-stands and short-term relationships. But in this case – in _this_ case, it’s a matter of business. It’s a matter of _volleyball_ , with his pride as a setter and a potential spot on the National Team on the line. 

For _that_ , Atsumu is willing to do anything. 

He looks over Sakusa again _. Really_ looks, dragging his gaze slowly down and then back up, as he recalls glimpses of pale skin collected over hundreds of hours worth of observation – the flash of a jutting hip bone during a spike, toned thighs highlighted by practice shorts, and the elegant length of Sakusa’s throat shining with sweat amongst a hundred other moments that leave him a little flushed.

It takes a moment to come to terms with the realization that he’s been unconsciously _watching_ Sakusa, all this time. It takes another moment to accept the sudden, sharp blade of _want_ that lances straight through Atsumu’s chest as tries to imagine what Sakusa smells like without the tape and the pills, what he tastes like – as he tries to imagine how Sakusa would look like in the middle of his heat, naked and panting and wet, legs spread wide and _desperate_.

It’s not like Sakusa’s going to agree. But on the off chance that he does – if helping Sakusa means that he’ll play in their games next week –

“Ain’t jokin’, Omi-kun,” Atsumu says, cocking his head to one side. He can bend the rules – just this once. “I wasn’t lyin’ about needin’ ya to deal with the Adlers. Just say the word; I’m there.”

* * *

When Sakusa all but sprints out of the locker rooms after Atsumu doubles down on his offer, he thinks that’s the end of it. He resigns himself to another loss against the Adlers for the fourth straight year in a row, but spends the rest of his day rewatching old game tapes, just to see if there was something he’d missed. He cooks himself dinner, does his physical therapy exercises for his shoulders, and treats himself to a face mask while catching up on a new episode of his favorite anime.

All the while, his mind keeps wandering back to Sakusa, and wondering, _What if he changes his mind? What then?_

He only manages to shove those ridiculous thoughts aside right as he’s crawling into bed – except, just as he’s on the verge of falling asleep, his phone chimes with a message, then again. He curses as he searches blindly for his phone on the nightstand, squinting at the screen through bleary eyes, and freezes when his vision finally adjusts to the light.

> **[Omi-omi, 22:04]** — Did you mean it? 

Atsumu blinks once, twice – then hurriedly types a reply.

> **[Tsumu, 22:05]** — wouldn't have offered if i didn’t. 

The typing icon starts and stops, over and over. Worrying his bottom lip, he sits up properly to stare at those three dots, before Sakusa finally responds. 

> **[Omi-omi, 22:07]** — Have you helped other omegas with their heats before?

Atsumu winces at the question. He hasn’t – his past relationships had never lasted long enough, or he’d been out of town for a game – but he’s watched enough porn to know what to expect. Lots of orgasms, lots of fucking – basically marathon knot sex, only messier. That mental image of Sakusa wanders back to the forefront of Atsumu’s mind, and makes his cock stir traitorously.

> **[Tsumu, 22:08]** — no, but we can go at your pace

_There,_ he thinks, satisfied. _That’s plenty considerate – something a good alpha would say, right?_ He nods to himself and waits eagerly for Sakusa’s reply, only to scowl when he reads the incoming message.

> **[Omi-omi, 22:08]** — Forget it. You won’t be able to keep up.

Scoffing down at his phone, Atsumu doesn't realize that he’s growling until he nearly sends an incoherent message of key smashes. He quickly deletes the string of characters in a huff before sending back a taunt of his own – and Sakusa’s reply comes quickly, rising to the challenge. 

> **[Tsumu, 22:09]** — doubting my stamina now, omi? afraid you can’t take my knot?
> 
> **[Omi-omi, 22:09]** — I’ve seen enough in the locker rooms, Miya. I could take you. 
> 
> **[Omi-omi, 22:09]** — Easily.

He rolls his eyes and palms his cock through his briefs, snorting. Sakusa has _no_ idea what he’s talking about.

> **[Tsumu, 22:09]** — big words for a virgin
> 
> **[Tsumu, 22:09]** — and ya haven’t seen anything yet. i’m a grower, omi-kun ;)
> 
> **[Omi-omi, 22:10]** — I’ll believe it when I see it.

It takes a second to tamp down the hope that rises in his chest. He can’t tell if Sakusa’s response is just banter, or if there’s a hidden meaning to the snarky repartee, but after a minute of internally debating with himself, he just bites the bullet and sends what first comes to mind. It makes him sound a little desperate, but Atsumu can live with a little humiliation if he can rub a Jackals win in Kageyama’s stupid face. 

> **[Tsumu, 22:12]** — does that mean…??????
> 
> **[Omi-omi, 22:14]** — Friday, 12pm at Olive Court in Umeda, 28K. I'm on birth control, so get tested and forward me your results. And take rut suppressants or I’m kicking you out.
> 
> **[Omi-omi, 22:14]** — Don’t make me regret this.

Atsumu rubs his eyes. He turns off his phone, and waits impatiently for it to turn back on. When the messages don’t disappear, he grins.

_Sakusa said yes._

He mentally calculates it. Friday is less than two days away – roughly 36 hours away, give or take half an hour. Adding four days for Sakusa’s heat gives both of them ample time to recover before their train leaves for Sendai next Saturday.

> **[Tsumu, 22:15]** — ya won’t

* * *

“Ya did _what_?” 

“I said, I offered t’be Omi’s heat partner,” he says as he takes another obnoxiously loud bite of his apple, purely to annoy Osamu. 

“... Of course ya did.” Osamu sighs. “At least tell me he laughed in yer face?” 

“Nuh-uh,” Atsumu says, and continues to chew with his mouth open before swallowing after Osamu’s disgusted grumble. “He said yes.” 

A pause. “Yer kiddin’.” 

“Got it in writing and everythin’,” Atsumu says smugly, and Osamu’s answering groan of frustration makes him huff a little. 

“I can’t tell if yer just stupid or a masochist,” Osamu mutters, voice static through the phone. “Sakusa too – I thought he was supposed t’be the smart one.” 

“Fuck off.” Atsumu rolls his eyes, throwing himself onto his crappy sofa. It isn’t like he didn’t know he’d get chewed out, but it’s another thing to have to sit there and listen to it. “Look, either I fuck Omi, or we throw the Adlers game – and if we lose ta those birdbrains again, I’m actually gonna kill someone. Maybe Bokuto.”

“Like you have the balls,” Osamu shoots back, ignoring Atsumu’s indignant “Oi!” for a disappointed hum. “This ain’t gonna turn out well, Tsumu. Thought ya’d have learned by now...” 

“He ain’t some omega I picked up at a club, ‘Samu,” Atsumu says exasperatedly. “And it ain’t like I’m fuckin’ him on the regular. Just this once.”

“Uh-huh.” Osamu doesn’t sound convinced, but Atsumu is used to being doubted. It only made it that much sweeter when he turned out to be right in the end. “So didja call me just t’gloat, or are ya gonna ask me for free fatty tuna again?”

“Nah.” Atsumu rips the last chunk of apple off the core, chomping loudly. “Needja t’make some stuff for me.”

“Ya lazy fuck.” The exasperated sigh says it all – he doesn’t need to see Osamu to know that he’s rolling his eyes. “Fine. Whaddya need?”

* * *

Two minutes to noon on Friday, Atsumu is standing in front of Sakusa’s apartment door, a backpack over his shoulder with a shopping bag filled with supplies. It’s not much – a bunch of instant miso soup packets, a 12-pack of sports drinks, and roughly three dozen of umeboshi onigiri, courtesy of Osamu – but he figures that it should be enough to tide both of them over until the end of Sakusa’s heat.

He doesn’t know what kind of aftercare Sakusa’s expecting, or if he’s expecting any at all, but Atsumu isn’t going to leave anything to chance. He isn’t going to leave anything for Sakusa to hold over him later.

Atsumu hears shuffling a few moments after he rings the doorbell, slow and faint. He hears the click of the deadbolt turning and the rattle of a chain, before the door opens.

Well – it opens up until the latch engages, leaving only a ten-centimeter sliver of a blank wall and half an umbrella. 

“Did you take the suppressants?” Sakusa demands. 

“Yes, _mother_ , I took the suppressants.” Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Ya wanna see the empty pill packet too, or are ya gonna let me in?” 

Atsumu can practically hear Sakusa’s scowl as he says, “Fuck you, Miya.” The door slams closed for a few seconds, before sweeping open for real this time. 

At first glance, Sakusa seems no different than usual. He’s dressed in a sweater and loose pants, sans mask with his customary, dark expression – but as Atsumu looks Sakusa over, he starts to notice a few key differences between this Sakusa and the one he’s spent the last six months training with.

Atsumu is used to deadpan stares or cutting glares – not this hazy, liquid gleam in Sakusa’s dark eyes, colored with a softness Atsumu has never seen before. There’s a pink flush sitting high on those pale cheeks, highlighting the sweep of sooty eyelashes as Sakusa blinks, and it’s as if he’s pleasantly drunk – or, what Atsumu assumes Sakusa is like when drunk. He’s never bothered to join the rest of the team for post-practice drinks.

All in all, Sakusa is the picture-perfect image of an omega in pre-heat, but what’s so baffling is the fact that Atsumu _still_ can’t smell anything.

All he can pick up is the faint, acrid burn of bleach, along with the underlying bite of artificial citrus that characterizes most modern cleaning products. There’s literally nothing there, not even the musky scent that’s supposed to be irresistible to any alpha in the vicinity, and it’s so fucking unnatural that Atsumu has to smile to hide his discomfort.

“Not lookin’ too hot there, Omi-kun,” he says, stepping into the apartment. The door swings shut with an ominous thud after him, the turn of the deadbolt making goosebumps erupt over his skin.

“Your manners are as abysmal as ever, Miya.” Sakusa seems to have picked up on his unease, because his eyes are a little clearer as he slips around Atsumu, gesturing to the open doorway just a few steps away from the genkan. “You can leave your things inside there.” 

From where Atsumu is standing, he can see that the closet is filled with cleaning supplies, with two shelves left bare for his things. There’s even butcher paper lining the space, cut precisely to shape, and it makes his lips quirk up a little. He toes off his ratty sneakers and lines them up next to a shiny pair of ankle boots, hanging his coat neatly next to a bright neon windbreaker, and watches curiously as Sakusa slides open another door, revealing a bathroom literally three times the size of the dinky one in his own apartment.

“Shower first, then meet me in the kitchen.” The light from the bathroom casts a beam of light across them both, giving Atsumu a better look at Sakusa’s face. 

In the bright light, Sakusa’s further gone than Atsumu had originally thought. His breaths are labored, sweat dotting across his forehead and the back of his neck, and there’s an edge of hunger to Sakusa’s eyes – one that sends a shiver down Atsumu’s spine when it’s turned onto him. For all that he’s the alpha, and Sakusa the omega, Atsumu can’t help but feel a little like prey, pinned under that fathomless, inky gaze.

The unspoken challenge lingering there makes Atsumu’s heart drop and his alpha stir. Smell or no smell, there’s an unmated omega in front of him, panting for it – _begging_ for it – and Atsumu feels a familiar warmth pooling in his gut as he steps forward. 

“ _Omi_ – ” 

Sakusa’s eyes flutter, body swaying a little, but his jaw clenches as he takes a deliberate step back, out of Atsumu’s reach. 

“Shower first,” he repeats, breathless, and Atsumu has to physically stop himself from chasing after Sakusa as he hurries down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Staring after him, Atsumu can see the length of a couch, a reading chair, and a fancy lamp – stuff that probably costs more than the contents of his own apartment combined – and a frankly obscene number of plants sitting on the bookshelves lining the wall. And beyond that, there’s the edge of a bed on the other side of a glass wall, blankets and pillows piled high in a perfect nest to –

Atsumu shakes his head again. Shower first. Sex later.

His alpha sulks in disagreement as Atsumu dumps his things into the closet, pulling out a change of clothes along with his travel bag of toiletries and a towel. Jumping straight into the shower, he scrubs himself clean – washes his body and hair, brushes his teeth, even douches for good measure – before drying himself off slipping into a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt. 

When he’s done, he grabs the bag of supplies and pads down the corridor, venturing deeper into Sakusa’s apartment with damp hair and a pounding heart. 

“Omi?” he calls, tentative. 

“Hurry up, Miya.” The response sounds strained, almost impatient, and Atsumu picks up his pace until he reaches the end of the hallway. He finds Sakusa perched on a stool, hunched over a pot of tea sitting on the kitchen countertop, with one cup dwarfed in Sakusa’s bony hands. Atsumu carefully slides into the stool that’s kicked out at him and places the food by his feet, waiting for Sakusa to say something – but he’s met only by more silence.

A minute passes like this, and Atsumu fidgets as the atmosphere starts to turn a little stifling, awkwardness settling over them. “Not gonna be a good host and offer me some?” he teases, trying to lighten the mood with a pointed glance at the teapot, but Sakusa just snorts. 

“If you like the taste of bleach, I suppose.” He shrugs at Atsumu’s confused expression. “It’s to dissolve the blockers in my system. I should be clear in approximately… ten minutes, give or take.”

_Oh_. Atsumu glances at the clock hanging on the wall. It’s 12:20, on the dot. “Got it down to the minute, don’tcha?”

“There’s nothing wrong with routines,” Sakusa shoots back, rolling his neck with a wince. The movement shifts the chunky neckline of Sakusa’s sweater just a little, enough to reveal the telltale edge of a tan scent-blocking patch, contrasted against the milky skin of his throat. It’s also then that he sees two more tan squares wrapped around the insides of Sakusa’s wrists, half-hidden in his sleeves. 

“Uh…” At Sakusa’s questioning glance, Atsumu gestures to his own neck, tapping the gland there pointedly. “Ya realize that dissolvin’ the blockers ain’t much use if yer gonna wear the patches y’know.”

The deadpan stare he receives is almost reassuring in its familiarity as Sakusa sighs. “I don’t take the pills for my scent,” he says slowly, as if explaining something to a child. “I take them to block everyone else’s.”

That has Atsumu reeling. “Why the ever lovin’ fuck wouldja do that t’yerself?”

He can’t imagine what it’s like to just… lose his sense of smell. Atsumu always had a keen nose growing up, something that was only heightened when he presented as an alpha. He uses scents to understand people, to observe and pick up on things he can’t be bothered to see, and more than anything, Atsumu associates scents with memories. Peaches and beeswax of his childhood home; fresh rice and pinewood of Osamu’s apartment above Onigiri Miya; salonpas and sweat and palpable _joy_ whenever he’s in a gym, on a court, playing volleyball.

Atsumu can’t even begin to fathom erasing such a strong part of himself – and he can’t figure out why Sakusa would.

“I can’t wear a face mask when I’m on the court, and I can’t play if I have a panic attack every time I touch a volleyball.” Sakusa’s wry smile is a little bitter, a little sharp. “Anxiety is a bitch, Miya.” 

It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop after Sakusa finishes speaking, and Atsumu feels something strange settle over him – something heavy. It takes a moment to realize that it’s shame, colored with an edge of guilt as he thinks back to all the shitty things he’s ever said about Sakusa, either in his head or to other people. 

“Oh,” he says softly. “I didn’t know that.”

Sakusa shrugs. “I don’t exactly go around telling people how fucked up I am.”

“Still.” Atsumu pauses, trying to find the right thing to say. Finally, he settles on, “Ya go through all that, just t’play – ya really do love volleyball, huh?”

He gets a half-smile in response, and something flips in his stomach at the sight. “I do.”

Atsumu nods mutedly, before asking, “And… yer okay with smellin’ me – _touchin’_ me? It ain’t gonna make ya uncomfortable?”

“One person is manageable; more than three and I’ll need the blockers.” Sakusa says, shaking his head. “As for physical contact, as long as you actually showered properly – “

Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Rude, Omi.”

“ – then I’ll be okay. I’m pretty sure I’ll be too far gone to care once my heat starts anyways.”

A glance at the clock shows five minutes now. Since Atsumu came out of the shower, Sakusa’s been steadily getting sweatier, the flush spreading down his neck and disappearing below his sweater. Despite the heavy turn of conversation, the gleam in Sakusa’s eyes has only grown deeper and stronger. He’s taken to shifting in his seat more and more as the seconds pass, but Atsumu still has no fucking idea what Sakusa smells like – and he really, _really_ wants to know.

“Will you take the patches off?”

Sakusa tenses, and for the first time since Atsumu arrived, looks a little uneasy. “I… I’ve been told it’s not very nice,” he says slowly. “It gets really strong.”

“Omi, ya could have the most disgustin’ scent in the world and I’d still fuck ya.” Atsumu has to stop himself from laughing at the absurdity of Sakusa’s statement, knowing it wouldn’t be appreciated. He’s met some omegas with pretty divisive aromas, but those are far and few between – and with Sakusa in heat, there is literally no chance that Atsumu will be turned off him, regardless of what he thinks. “But I have a feelin’ it ain’t as bad as ya believe it is.” 

Sakusa squints a little. His mouth twists, as if he doesn’t believe what Atsumu is saying, but after a moment, he says slowly, “… I’ll take off one, so you can see for yourself. If you don’t… I won’t hold it against you if you decide to leave.”

“I said I’d do it, didn’t I? I ain’t gonna back out _now_.” Atsumu tries to smile reassuringly, but even then, uncertainty eats away at his stomach.

The truth of it is, he doesn’t really know how to deal with this version of Sakusa, vulnerable and self-deprecating, tongue loosened – he feels a little like he’s in a boat with no sail, hesitant about how he’s supposed to navigate all this newfound knowledge. He doesn’t like how uncertain he feels, and when Sakusa huffs softly in reply, Atsumu can’t help but turn the question back. 

“Well, what about you?” The omega blinks, slow and syrupy, and Atsumu’s hand flexes at his side, itching to run his thumb across the thin skin of Sakusa’s eyelids and the brush of those dark, inky eyelashes. “Are ya sure about _me_?” 

“It’s a bit too late to be acting considerate, Miya,” Sakusa mutters with a roll of his eyes, and Atsumu can’t help but smirk a little. “But if it means I get to play...” Sakusa’s gaze goes sharp and intense, just for a moment, but Atsumu understands. In that split second, he sees the devotion and determination to stand on the court, a hunger for volleyball that rivals Atsumu’s own, and his heart skips a little at the sight. 

Atsumu definitely made the right choice, back in those locker rooms.

“Well. It’s a setter’s job to support their hitters, right?” He reaches out, slow enough so Sakusa can see him coming, and gently brushes a wayward curl out of Sakusa’s face. “Take the patches off, Omi. I’ll take care of ya.”

Rather than flinching away, Sakusa slowly presses against the light touch, sighing quietly as his flushed cheek settles against Atsumu’s palm. The damp skin is hot to the touch, far warmer than Atsumu’s hand, and a glance at the clock shows that time is up.

“You smell good, Miya,” Sakusa murmurs, ducking his head to nuzzle at Atsumu’s wrist. He inhales sharply, nose pressed against the gland right above Atsumu’s pulse, and Atsumu jumps when something sharp grazes over the spot – Sakusa’s teeth.

“The patch, Omi,” Atsumu says softly. Sakusa doesn’t stop, reaching to his wrist and pulling at the edge of the bandage. In less than a second, it’s on the countertop, crumpled in a wad, and Atsumu goes stiff.

The scent is faint at first. A little stale, as if left to dissipate in the warm sun, but Atsumu can still pick up something earthy, with a floral undertone that he can’t place. It makes him frown a little in frustration, taking a deep breath to try and pinpoint that niggling feeling at the back of his mind, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t figure it out.

Sakusa stills. “Do you want me to put it back on?” His voice is small, and Atsumu can feel it when Sakusa swallows thickly against his skin. What little he can sense goes sour in fear, burning his nose.

“No, no, yer fine,” Atsumu says hurriedly. By the way Sakusa was acting, Atsumu was expecting something worse – it’s much more pleasant than intrusive, from what little he can parse out. “… ya smell like… ugh, I can’t figure it out, but ya smell real good, Omi, don’tcha worry.” 

The tenseness in Sakusa’s shoulders bleeds away, the sugary fragrance returning. “... Oh.” That little word weighs heavy, laden with relief so palpable that Atsumu can see how Sakusa goes a little more boneless, a little more relaxed. “Should I do the rest?” 

_Yes_. 

“Only if you want to.”

Atsumu holds his breath as Sakusa nods, slowly reaching for one of the patches sitting at the base of his throat, all the while keeping his face deliberately turned away. He’s still nosing at Atsumu’s pulse when careful, slender fingers pick at the edges of the bandages on either side of Sakusa’s neck, then the one on his wrist – and only then does Atsumu take a greedy breath. 

Warmth washes over him, comforting and familiar and sweet. Sakusa’s scent is woodsy, with a note of jasmine and vanilla that gets stronger and stronger as his body starts to pump out pheromones uninterrupted. Cedar and honey and spice, colored with that ripe edge of an omega in heat – Sakusa doesn’t just smell good. He smells _delicious_ , and it takes just about everything Atsumu has to stay seated. 

He can feel his body responding – the familiar aroma of spicy-sharp rum and fresh rainwater cuts through the cloying weight with the precision of a knife, and Sakusa is inhaling it straight from his wrists – but he wants to lick at that pale neck, laving at Sakusa’s gland until he’s thoroughly coated in Atsumu’s scent. He wants to know what they’re like _together_.

Atsumu feels his mouth watering, canines elongating as he inhales again, deeper this time. “Whoever toldja that yer scent’s bad – they’re a fuckin’ liar,” he says, and the words come out in a near growl. His voice has lost some of its lilting quality, going lower, more guttural, and he feels his cock start to fill when Sakusa mewls softly, the neckline of his sweater slipping just enough to reveal the sharp jut of pale collarbones and a throbbing pulse. “Ya smell like a goddamn _dream_ , baby.”

The pet name slips out unintentionally, but Sakusa shudders. He stares up at Atsumu, pupils blown wide, punch-drunk and dizzy, and Atsumu can only watch as Sakusa straightens up slowly, dragging his nose and lips from Atsumu’s wrist to palm to fingertips. The air between them goes thick and heavy with want, and Atsumu _aches_.

“Get on with it, Miya,” Sakusa rasps, before tilting his head to expose his throat in submission. 

Atsumu groans, sliding out of the barstool to step directly in between Sakusa’s loosely spread legs, forcing them open to accommodate the width of his hips. He traces over Sakusa’s lips and chin, and across the Adam’s apple bobbing under his touch, but stops at the base of Sakusa’s pale throat. 

“This okay?” Atsumu waits, letting Sakusa take a shuddering breath before nodding slowly. The slide of firm flesh under Atsumu’s fingertips earns him a reedy whine.

It’s a plea and a demand, all in one, and Sakusa doesn’t have to say anything more – Atsumu hisses as he cups Sakusa’s damp nape with a heavy grip, warmth seeping into his palm. He reaches down with his other hand, diving under the soft sweater to press against feverish skin, and Sakusa bucks away from the touch, inadvertently driving their hips together in a sudden, delicious press. 

“ _Fuuuuck_.” Atsumu wants Sakusa to do that again. He curls around to the small of Sakusa’s back and coaxes him forward with a nudge. His cock kicks when Sakusa obeys, whimpering when their torsos align – chest to chest, belly to belly, Atsumu’s hips cradled between his thighs. “Wrap your arms around my neck.” 

There’s no hesitation, elbows settling heavy across Atsumu’s shoulders and hands fisting in the fabric of his t-shirt to yank him closer. Sakusa buries his face into the side of Atsumu’s neck, panting heavily into his throat – bony knees find a place at Atsumu’s waist as Sakusa rolls into Atsumu’s hips gracelessly, searching for more friction. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

“Miya – ”

“Shh, Omi, I’ve gotcha.” If it had been anyone else, Atsumu would already be bending Sakusa over the countertop, coating his cock with the slick leaking out of Sakusa’s needy little hole – but this _was_ Sakusa. Prickly, grumpy, _inexperienced_ Sakusa.

_Are you a virgin?_

_So what if I am?_

He swallows thickly as Sakusa grinds himself against his cock again, ankles digging into the meat of his ass. Atsumu is well aware that Sakusa has probably already explored himself thoroughly, despite his virginity – there was no way for an omega of his age to not own at least a few heat-specific toys – but Atsumu is the first alpha Sakusa has ever allowed into his bed. Atsumu will be the first person to feel the expanse of Sakusa’s skin, the first person to hear how Sakusa sounds when he falls apart. The first person to fuck Sakusa, knot and cum _inside_ him – and with that, Atsumu’s resolve crumbles and his alpha surges forward, eager and hungry, snapping at his restraint.

“Gonna treat you so good, Omi,” he breathes, ducking his head to mouth at the skin around Sakusa’s glands – he wants to drown in Sakusa’s smell, bathe himself in it. “Gonna eat ya out, get ya nice and ready for my cock… m’gonna show ya how t’fuck yerself on my knot – ”

“Fuck yes – _please_ – ” Sakusa keens, high and desperate, and Atsumu lifts the spiker into his arms, supporting Sakusa’s weight for a brief moment before setting him down on the counter. He scrapes his teeth over Sakusa’s thundering pulse with the edge of a canine, drinking in way Sakusa’s entire body shivers, before running a hand across the waistband of his pants.

“Can I?” Atsumu breathes.

“Yes, _yes_ – ” 

He hooks his fingers into both the sweats and underwear beneath, peeling them down Sakusa’s legs with impatient tugs. Sakusa lifts his hips, kicking the fabric away when Atsumu stops midway through stripping him down, eyes zeroing in on the sight of Sakusa’s pretty, leaking cock and the blocking patches over his final two glands, high on the inside of his thighs.

“Holy _shit_.” Atsumu watches, dazed, as Sakusa doesn’t hesitate to reach down and pull them off, flooding the air with more of that honeyed fragrance. He almost chokes on it, laden with need and lust and desperation. “S’all this for me, Omi?”

“Stop gawking and _touch me_ , Miya,” Sakusa whines, leaning back on his hands and spreading his legs. It gives Atsumu a front-row seat to the sight of Sakusa’s hole, wet with slick and twitching oh-so-sweetly, and he sinks to his knees, diving straight in without warning.

Sakusa arches into his mouth with a wordless shout, legs clamping around Atsumu’s head, but he pays it little mind, eating Sakusa out with single-minded focus. His scent is even stronger here, musky and heady, and Atsumu can feel his eyes rolling back with every breath he takes. The broken gasps only spur him on, reveling in the messy slide of his face against Sakusa as Atsumu laps at whatever he’s able to reach. 

He wedges Sakusa’s legs apart with his elbows, forearms braced along the inside of toned thighs, and uses his fingers to open Sakusa up further, thrusting his tongue in as deep as it can go. Atsumu can hear the stuttering breaths, legs spasming against his arms, and he slips two fingers in alongside his tongue, scissoring them as he tries to get closer. Sakusa spreads his legs wider in response, hips tilting to let Atsumu lick into him even deeper, but when the tip of his nose brushes against Sakusa’s perineum, a hand suddenly claws at his hair.

“Miya – Miya, I can’t – _fuck, I can’t_ – !” The sharp pain shoots straight down to Atsumu’s cock, and Sakusa grinds against him in one, two, three rolls –

“Oh’i… _mmhph_ ,” Atsumu moans as Sakusa comes with a wail. The salty taste of slick floods his mouth, wetness spilling out around his fingers and chin, and he can’t believe how fucking _sensitive_ Sakusa is. He takes the opportunity to draw back, slipping another finger inside Sakusa to replace his tongue, and looks up to see Sakusa’s head thrown back, the length of his throat taut with the strain of riding out his orgasm. There are streaks of pearly-white cum across Sakusa’s soft sweater, his dick twitching weakly but still hard, and Atsumu wants to see Sakusa’s bare chest decorated the same way. 

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, watching how Sakusa’s hole clenches around his fingers. He can’t _wait_ to sink his cock into that tight, wet warmth. “Fuck, yer gonna look so good stuffed with my cock.”

Sakusa twitches at that, but when he peers down at Atsumu, there’s a lucidity to his gaze, the effects of his heat temporarily kept at bay by his orgasm. “You talk too much, Miya,” he pants. Sakusa sits up a little, mewling when Atsumu follows the movement with his fingers still buried inside, and Sakusa unceremoniously whips off his dirty sweater. “I thought you were going to fuck me.”

Atsumu’s eyes fall to a heaving chest, tracking the moles scattered across the pale skin. The angry head of Sakusa’s cock lies against his abdomen, still leaking despite having just cum, and Sakusa unceremoniously reaches down between his legs and presses another two fingers against his hole, snug up against Atsumu’s own. Dark eyes flutter, Sakusa’s mouth falling open as he works them in, and Atsumu can only watch as Sakusa takes it all with little more than a slow, shuddering sigh of relief.

_Fuck._

“Jesus, Omi,” Atsumu breathes, “I was _tryin’_ t’be gent – ”

“I don’t _need_ gentle, Miya. Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I’ll break.” Sakusa glares down at Atsumu, a feral glint in his eye, and says, “If you’re not going to fuck me out of my heat, I’ll find an alpha who _will_.”

Atsumu freezes. The challenge sits heavy in the air, lingering as the proud tilt of Sakusa’s head remains. It doesn’t matter than he knows it’s a lie, that they both know that it’s a bluff — Sakusa doesn’t waver, even as the seconds pass, and for Atsumu – for his alpha –

_No, no, omega, my omega, mine, you’re mine, minemine **mine** –_

– something snaps.

Atsumu pulls his fingers away, rough enough to draw a cry from Sakusa’s chest. “Tch, ya wanna get fucked that bad?” He surges up to his feet, snarling – wrapping a heavy hand around Sakusa’s throat. “Ya want me t’stuff ya with my cock? Wanna see how much yer pretty little hole can take?”

Lower, Atsumu can see Sakusa shove four fingers into himself, knuckle deep. “Yes – _yes_ – ”

“Fuckin’ desperate, ain’tcha?” he whispers, and reaches down to yank Sakusa’s hand away, pinning it to the countertop. “Touch yerself again, I’ll make sure the only thing yer gettin’ stuffed with are yer fingers. Got it?”

The command makes Sakusa go lax and pliant, his gaze going huge and hazy as he visibly swallows before nodding. Atsumu squeezes, just a little, and Sakusa’s eyes flutter shut as he mewls, “Yes, _alpha_.”

_Holy fuck_.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Atsumu says, and lets go of Sakusa’s wrist to tug his sweats down, dick bobbing heavy between his thighs. It takes only a simple shift in weight for his cock to butt up against Sakusa’s, and the difference in size is even more apparent like this, side by side.

Sakusa lets out a strangled yelp. “What the fuck,” he says weakly, staring down at Atsumu’s dick. “Why is it so big?”

“I thought ya said ya could take me?” Atsumu smirks, reaching down to gather some slick on his fingers before pumping his cock a few times. “Haven’t ya ever watched knottin’ porn, Omi? S’only gonna get bigger, ya know.”

“I – ” Sakusa looks like he can’t decide whether he should be concerned or excited. “Those aren’t as…”

“Ya sayin’ I’ve got a big dick, Omi?” Atsumu teases, grinning at the scowl that appears on Sakusa’s face at that. “Don’t be shy, c’mon – ”

“You are _insufferable_ ,” Sakusa says, eyes narrowing. “I take it back, you’re average at best – ”

Atsumu just laughs. He releases Sakusa’s throat, ignoring the whine that follows, and pushes Sakusa’s legs up to his chest. The position opens him up beautifully, Sakusa’s stretched hole aligned perfectly with Atsumu’s cock, and Atsumu slides home in one smooth, hard thrust. 

He’s gone from the moment his cockhead enters that sweet, plush heat. It overtakes Atsumu’s brain, fills every crack and crevice until all he can feel, all he can think of is Sakusa. The wet softness of Sakusa’s walls making room for him, the way Sakusa chokes and keens, the way hands fly up to scrabble for purchase at Atsumu’s shoulders and neck –

“ _Oh_ ,” Sakusa croaks. He’s trembling so hard that Atsumu has to wrap his arms around Sakusa’s back, catching him just before his arms give out. “Oh god, oh my god, _fuck_ – ”

Atsumu just purrs in agreement, words failing him as he drinks in the sight of Sakusa’s expression. He hasn’t even started, and it’s as if Sakusa is already on the verge of cumming on Atsumu’s cock – he looks fucking _obscene_ , mouth open and cheeks ruddy, eyes clouded with lust and pleasure. 

It makes Atsumu growl in satisfaction, trying to imprint the image into his memory as he pulls Sakusa into his chest. The position leaves Sakusa with his knees hooked over Atsumu’s arms, their scents mingling beautifully, and he can literally feel Sakusa’s heartbeat pulsing around his dick. 

He wants to stay buried inside Sakusa _forever_.

“Ya look like yer havin’ a hard time, baby.” He sucks on his teeth, holding back the urge to just start pounding away – Sakusa is still shaking, practically gulping down air, eyes wild and pulse racing. Atsumu rocks his hips a little, feeling the knot at the base of his cock start to swell as pleasure sparks down his spine, coiling in his core. “Still think I’m _average_?”

Sakusa’s eyes swivel, pinning Atsumu with a fierce, hazy glower that’s directly at odds with how wrecked he looks. “Stop being a goddamn tease,” he pants, and clenches down hard enough to make Atsumu hiss as Sakusa squirms. “Fuck, _just_ – ”

Atsumu doesn’t. He feels a little cruel as he keeps Sakusa from grinding against him, holding his hips with a firm grip, but Atsumu wants to hear it. He wants to hear Sakusa _say_ it.

“Just what?”

“Are you fucking – ”

“Yer alpha asked ya a question.” Atsumu slides one hand up, digging his fingers into dark, sweaty hair and yanking Sakusa’s head. He mouths at the scent gland, laves over the patch of skin before giving it a hard, desperate suck that makes Sakusa cry out. “What d’ya want, Omi?”

Sakusa trembles, twists against Atsumu’s hold. “ _Please_.”

“What was that?”

“Please _, alpha_ –” His voice goes ragged, begging. “Fuck me, knot me _, pleaseplease **please** – !_”

Atsumu growls. He sucks one last bruise into Sakusa’s throat, feeling Sakusa nibbling at his neck – and _moves_.

It’s clumsy and awkward at first – Sakusa’s ass sticks to the countertop, and the cabinets keep hitting Atsumu’s knees on each stroke. Sakusa has no sense of pace, trying to match Atsumu’s thrusts but always ending up half a beat behind, but somehow, it still feels _good_. Atsumu pants into the crook of Sakusa’s neck, distantly aware of Sakusa’s perpetual, keening moan as he focuses on the addictive smell of rainwater and wood, of honey and spice, of his scent mixing with Sakusa’s own.

Sakusa, ever the perfectionist, learns quickly. His offbeat rhythm smooths out, hips lifting so that Atsumu is supporting the majority of Sakusa’s weight in his arms, and with each plunge, Atsumu can feel his cock swelling, his balls tightening in anticipation. It takes more and more to force himself into Sakusa’s sopping hole, the growing knot catching with each push and pull, each thrust and grind – the delicious, building pleasure and Sakusa’s hiccupping sobs send him spiraling, aching for more, and more, and _more_.

“So good, yer doing so good for me, baby – ” Atsumu babbles, words falling out uninhibited. “ _Fuck_ , yer perfect – ya were made for this, made for my cock – ”

He drives himself deeper and harder and faster, savoring the taste of slick lingering on his lips, the tightness of Sakusa’s hole. It feels like Sakusa is sucking him in, desperate to keep his cock inside, and Sakusa’s continuous slur of “ _pleaseMiyaknotmeknotmeplease_ ” only fuels that the winding pressure coiling at the base of his spine, spreading through every cell of his body as he chases his release in Sakusa’s velvet wet heat.

“Shh, I’ve got ya, I know – ”

“M-Mi – Miya…p-please –” Sakusa’s voice breaks on a sob. “ _Alpha_ – need t’come, need your knot, alpha, alpha _alphaplease – ”_

It isn’t the first time an omega has called him alpha, it’s not even the first time Sakusa has said it today. And yet, something about how Sakusa says it _now_ – begs him so sweetly, teary-eyed and desperate – sears itself into Atsumu’s brain, nestles there with the intensity of a brand. It taps into a suppressed, dormant instinct that Atsumu has never allowed out of the confines of its careful cage, and every cell in his body starts screaming at him to make Sakusa _his_. 

The suppressants dull Atsumu’s alpha just enough to push past the urge, but even then, the temptation to mark someone has never been so strong. He doesn’t let himself think about what could’ve happened if he hadn’t taken them. 

“I know, baby,” he croons, soothing and low and reassuring. He slows his pace to a grind, gritting his teeth to hold off his climax as he presses his knot against Sakusa’s hole. “Shh, shh – I’m here.” 

Sakusa is writhing, scratching at Atsumu’s back and crying from the pressure, but goes still when Atsumu leans down to take a careful mouthful of flesh between his lips, just below Sakusa’s gland. He feels his balls drawing up and his core tightening, waiting for the perfect moment.

“ _Alpha_.” Sakusa whimpers, voice hoarse. “Alpha, _alpha_ – ”

“Good boy,” Atsumu murmurs, voice muffled in Sakusa’s neck. He waits one, excruciating second for the telltale pressure that precedes his climax, and then growls, “ _Good omega_.”

That’s all it takes for Sakusa to break, collapsing in Atsumu’s arms with a scream, and Atsumu shoves his knot into Sakusa just as he bites down – not enough to break the skin, but deep enough, hard enough that Sakusa goes boneless in his arms – before shattering.

It’s like a dam breaking, waves of pleasure crashing over him before the force of a riptide pulls him under. It feels like he’s exploding out of his skin – like his lungs are about to crawl out of his throat, like his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest – and Atsumu’s eyes slip shut, rolling back as he fills Sakusa with ropes of cum. He vaguely registers wetness smearing across his stomach, but Atsumu is wholly consumed by the sensation of Sakusa’s walls fluttering around him, milking him of every drop of cum he can spare. 

For those few seconds, his world whites out – the only thing keeping him rooted is the weight of Sakusa slumped against his chest and the press of their sticky skin, listening to the sound of Sakusa’s slurred groans before his senses start to return, one by one.

Atsumu feels a little like he’s floating underwater, the world soft and muted, his focus narrowed down to what he can touch and taste and feel. He relishes in the prick of Sakusa’s nails digging into his back and the teeth sinking into the meaty muscle of his shoulder – he listens to Sakusa’s soft breaths and thundering heartbeat, feeling it reverberate through his body rather than hearing it, and commits every detail of the moment to mind.

Engulfed by their entwined scents, the sweat-salt of Sakusa’s skin in his mouth, and his knot buried in Sakusa’s ass, Atsumu takes back everything he’s ever said about Sakusa being a weird omega. 

He’s fucking _perfect_. 

* * *

It takes Atsumu a while to come down from his high – he’s still riding the wave of that blissful, sweet euphoria, half-drunk and a little overwhelmed by how fucking good Sakusa _still_ feels, wrapped around his cock. Sakusa is all fucked out, dozing against Atsumu’s shoulder while riding out the last aftershocks of his orgasm, and he whines when Atsumu flexes his hips experimentally.

Nothing gives; not even a little.

It may take up to another twenty until his knot recedes enough to pull out, but Atsumu doesn’t want to deal with the inevitable awkwardness that’s going to come once Sakusa snaps out of his post-coital haze. He casts a glance down at the bag of food sitting on the floor, miraculously undisturbed, and looks back at Sakusa carefully. His dark hair is soaked with sweat, skin damp and sticky, and Atsumu frowns at the goosebumps starting to form on Sakusa’s shoulders. 

“Omi? Ya doin’ okay?”

“Mmm.” Sakusa hums softly, nuzzling into Atsumu’s neck, shoulders hunching as he tucks his arms between their chests. “M’cold.”

Atsumu glances at Sakusa’s cum-spattered sweater on the floor, out of reach, then down at _his_ cum-covered, sweat-soaked shirt, stretched out from Sakusa’s pulling and clawing. It takes a few moments to coax Sakusa back long enough to whip the shirt over his head and tug it over the omega, but all he gets in return is Sakusa’s grimace at the slide of damp fabric on his skin.

“This is disgusting,” he grumbles, but buries his nose in the shirt collar with a sigh. The glow of satisfaction in Atsumu’s chest makes no sense, but he doesn’t think twice about it when Sakusa’s lip curls up into a teeny, tiny smile.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Atsumu leans down to snag the handle of the shopping bag with one hand, pulling it up so he can extract a sports drink and two onigiris, individually wrapped with cling-film. He sets the onigiri down, and lets the bag drop to the floor as Sakusa watches curiously.

“That’s Green Dakara,” he says slowly, eyes narrowed as he stares at the drink.

“I know.” Atsumu cracks open the cap to break the seal, before offering it to Sakusa. “Here.”

He takes the bottle slowly, brows knitted in confusion. “You only drink Pocari.”

“Well, that’s why it ain’t for me.” Atsumu nods pointedly. “Pretty sure ya lost all the fluids in yer body just now, and I don’t want ya faintin’ on me, so drink up, Omi.”

He misses Sakusa’s curious glance as he picks up an onigiri and starts to peel the plastic away. “I got ‘Samu t’make a bunch of these t’snack on between rounds,” Atsumu says absently, tongue poking out in concentration, and carefully folds down the edges so there’s a neat little corner to hold onto. “Told him t’wear those food-safe plastic gloves ya always talk about, so these should be okay for ya to eat.”

Sakusa blinks, staring at the onigiri for a moment before plucking it out of Atsumu’s hand, fingertips brushing against his own. He examines it for a moment, then takes a bite. “Umeboshi?”

“Yeah, ya like them, right?” At Sakusa’s slow nod, Atsumu grins, pleased. He turns to the other onigiri, unwrapping it far less carefully and taking a huge mouthful.

In his haste, he misses the way Sakusa’s looks down at both the onigiri and the sports drink with a soft, contemplative huff.

* * *

When his knot finally goes down enough to slip out of Sakusa, Atsumu doesn’t complain when he’s shepherded to the bathroom again – only this time he’s not alone. He and Sakusa take turns scrubbing each other’s backs, trading insults like they’re back in the Jackals’ locker rooms, before Sakusa’s breath starts to go short again.

“Fuck.” Atsumu shakes the water out of his eyes, brows creasing in worry. “Here, lemme get yer towel – ”

“Miya, wait – ” He’s halfway out of the shower before Sakusa grabs him by the arm, pulling him back in under the spray. Sakusa turns, bending over with his hands braced against the wall, and stares over his shoulder at Atsumu with dark, needy eyes. “Do it here.”

Atsumu gulps. “Here? Ya sure, Omi?” The air in the bathroom, already steamy and humid, goes heavy as it’s weighed down by Sakusa’s scent, nearly suffocating with how sweet it is. It only makes his cock jump, slowly getting hard again.

“Do it,” Sakusa moans, reaching back to pull his cheeks apart, and Atsumu almost chokes. “ _Alpha_ , _please –_ ”

Atsumu knots him in that huge shower, fucking into Sakusa from behind as he desperately scrabbles against the tile for something to hold onto. He does it again later, pounding Sakusa into the mattress of his bed, surrounded by the pillows and blankets of his nest – and again, and again, and again.

After each round, Sakusa insists on changing the bedding and rinsing off, and despite Atsumu’s exasperation, he helps do the laundry and fit the mattress with new sheets. He carries Sakusa to the bathroom when he can’t walk and they soak together in the bathtub, Sakusa lying between Atsumu’s legs, leaning back against his chest. Sometimes they fuck in the tub, and sometimes they don’t, but Atsumu always makes Sakusa eat at least one onigiri and drink half a bottle before he gives into Sakusa’s pleading gaze and pouty mouth.

Sakusa gets bolder as the days pass. Touchier. _Needier_. When they’re not fucking or locked together, Sakusa is almost always pressed up against him, cuddling into his side or sprawled across his torso. It’s adorably cat-like, filling his chest with warmth whenever Sakusa falls asleep with his face against Atsumu’s neck and their fingers tangled, scents blending together in a soothing blanket of comfort. 

He doesn’t have anything to compare it to, but falling asleep next to Sakusa – it feels _right_. Atsumu almost wishes that this wasn’t just a one-time thing. 

He’s kind of going to miss it. 

* * *

On the last day of Sakusa’s heat, Atsumu wakes up to a warm, wet weight against his stomach, rocking back and forth across his abs. He’s already half-hard, filling quickly thanks to the firm hands wrapped around his and Sakusa’s cocks, and Atsumu can’t help but sigh in pleasure when he opens his eyes to the marked-up expanse of Sakusa’s back littered with hickeys and the imprints of teeth.

“Mornin’, Omi,” Atsumu says, and Sakusa throws a frustrated glance over his shoulder.

“Took you long enough, Miya.” Sakusa looks more like a disgruntled kitten with disheveled hair and his bottom lip turned out in a pout, skin already glistening with a sheen of sweat. Atsumu grins back at him sleepily. “You sleep like a corpse.”

“It takes work t’look this good,” he drawls, reaching down to slip a hand between his stomach and Sakusa’s ass. The slide of knuckles against the slick entrance of Sakusa’s hole earns him a needy whimper, and when Atsumu crooks his fingers, two digits slip in without any resistance. Sakusa is already dripping, the breach smooth and easy, and Atsumu adds two more on a hunch. Sure enough, they get sucked in just as quickly.

“Fuck, did ya prep yerself?”

“You were taking too long.” Sakusa throws his head back unapologetically and arches into Atsumu’s touch, thighs tensing on either side of his waist as hot, plush warmth squeezes around his fingers. “ _Please,_ Miya.” 

Atsumu groans, cock twitching at the plaintive whine, and pulls his hand away to smooth a hand up Sakusa’s back. The sound Sakusa makes at the loss of his fingers has Atsumu chuckling.

“Ya didn’t have t’wait, y’know,” he says, pushing himself up as Sakusa shifts so that he’s settled between Atsumu’s legs, ass tight up against his cock. A hand pulls at his wrist, tucking it into the crook of Sakusa’s neck, and Atsumu watches bemusedly as Sakusa works to douse himself in Atsumu’s pheromones. “Wouldn’t’ve minded wakin’ up t’ya fuckin’ yerself on my cock.” 

Sakusa sniffs, turning his face away, but his reddening ears betray him. “It feels better when you’re on top,” he mumbles grumpily.

“Pillow princess,” Atsumu teases, and pulls his captured wrist away to tweak at a nipple playfully. Sakusa yelps, trying to squirm away, but a low, rumbling growl has him falling limp with a moan. “Ya looked real good ridin’ me yesterday though.” 

Sakusa’s shoulders curl in as he shudders, his back pressing against Atsumu’s chest with his fingers digging into the sheets. “Shut _up_.” The flush is working its way down the back of Sakusa’s neck now, highlighting the hickeys there beautifully. “I hate you, I hate you –”

“Real cute, Omi,” Atsumu coos, continuing to roll the sensitive bud between his thumb and index finger, as his other hand wanders down to Sakusa’s cock and starts to pump at it leisurely. “Ya did so well, came on my cock four times before takin’ my knot – ”

“Stop, stop talking – ” Sakusa whimpers, head thrashing and hips canting, trying to chase the friction against his cock and arching into Atsumu’s pinching fingers. Sakusa lets go of the sheets to clench at Atsumu’s thighs, fingers digging into the muscle. “Miya – _Miya, please_ – ”

Atsumu hums, maintaining a loose pace as he places a kiss against a mole on Sakusa’s shoulder. The salt-sweet taste stings his lips a little, but he doesn’t pay it any attention as he tucks his nose into the crook of Sakusa’s neck, inhaling deeply. _Delicious_. 

“Think ya can make it t’five?” he muses.

Sakusa twists in his arms, turning to face him with a fearful, desperate expression that only makes Atsumu’s cock kick in excitement. “Don’t you fucking dare, I swear I’ll – ”

“Let’s try for five, baby,” Atsumu says, grinning, and pretends not to hear any of Sakusa’s screeching threats and protests as he flips them both over. Sakusa lands on his belly with a wheeze, legs spread wide and his ass raised into the air, and Atsumu only gives Sakusa a moment to breathe before lining himself up and feeding his dick into Sakusa’s hungry, leaking hole, bit by bit. 

Sakusa cums once before Atsumu even manages to bottom out. He cums again after Atsumu spanks his ass a few times, whispering about how soft and tight he feels, and screams when he orgasms for the third time when Atsumu tilts his hips and starts to fuck into Sakusa’s prostate with slow, deep strokes. 

He manages to hold himself back until Sakusa cums once more, voice rising into a wail as he begs for Atsumu’s knot, staring back at Atsumu with tears streaming down his cheeks. Sakusa looks _wrecked_ – cheeks flushed, lips swollen and dark, and chin shiny from a mix of sweat and tears and saliva – and whatever restraint he has left crumbles when Sakusa keens, “Alpha, I need you – _alpha, please_.”

Atsumu clamps a hand around Sakusa’s throat, pumping into him three more times before driving his knot in with a roar – toppling over the edge and pinning Sakusa down with the weight of his body. He empties himself into Sakusa’s tight heat, enjoying the sensation of every little spasm and flutter and tremor of Sakusa’s walls around his cock, and for a few, solitary moments, he soaks in that hot rush of euphoria searing through his veins, as if burning him from the inside out. 

As he slowly comes back to himself, Atsumu feels Sakusa’s pulse pounding against his palm, his sobs quieting to hiccups. He slowly releases his grip, easing off of Sakusa and shifting his weight back into his hips, and Sakusa’s chest expands as the omega inhales with a deep shudder.

“You’re a fucking sadist,” Sakusa rasps, voice raw and hoarse, and Atsumu smooths a hand down his spine in quiet comfort. His head is turned to the side, leaving his face in profile – his features are soft and relaxed, and though Sakusa looks like he’s on the verge of falling asleep, he presses against Atsumu’s touch in a slow exhale.

“Ya liked it though.” The sheets beneath them are wet with Sakusa’s slick and cum, practically soaked through, but he’s more surprised by the fact that Sakusa is willingly lying in the mess. Atsumu must’ve really worn him out. “Was I too rough?” 

One eye flutters open, a slit of black peeking through. “You were fine,” Sakusa murmurs, eyes slipping shut again with a sigh. “Felt _good_.”

Atsumu’s alpha preens, chest warm with pride, and he leans back down to lick over the throbbing gland on Sakusa’s neck with a purr. That strange, nostalgic scent tickles his nose again, gently filling the air with the distinct aroma of wood and vanilla and spiced honey.

He still hasn’t quite figured out what it reminds him of. He’s managed to push it to the back of his mind, but whenever he’s left waiting for his knot to deflate, the mystery comes crawling back to the forefront of his mind stronger than before. It’s so distinct and so familiar, triggering something that leaves Atsumu a little wistful and a little sentimental. It’s something from his past, something important. Something like –

_Ink and cedar and pine. Jasmine tea and sticky syrup. Cooling sweat. A pledge and a promise –_

_“Who needs memories?”_

The realization hits Atsumu like a freight train.

He smells like fresh-turned earth after the first spring rain, the charcoal grill of his favorite yakitori stand after volleyball practices, the lingering sweet sap on his fingers after an afternoon playing in Granny Miya’s garden. He smells like Hyogo forest shrines with burning incense, the squelch of mud between his toes, and the dizzying, nectarous fragrance of honeysuckle that fills Atsumu’s nose when he visits home for his mother's birthday in July.

Atsumu sits up so fast that Sakusa whines in discomfort, quieting down only when he croons soothingly in apology. He has to bite back the questions that bubble up his throat, tamping down on his pheromones so Sakusa can’t sense his sudden confusion.

Sakusa smells like Amagasaki – he smells like everything Atsumu has ever thought of as _home_.

_What the fuck_?

* * *

Kiyoomi knows, _technically_ , that Miya Atsumu is an alpha – but according to most metrics, he’s not a very good one.

At least, that’s the perception he has when he walks into the Jackals’ training facility in Osaka, seeing a slew of familiar faces – some, more than others. Kiyoomi only settles on the Jackals after lots of extensive research about their roster and their staff, diving deep to best see how he could fit in with the team without compromising himself, but very quickly writes Atsumu off as someone he’d have to learn how to tolerate.

Instead, Kiyoomi finds himself in the strange position of being so grossly wrong in his judgment of someone that he’s almost ashamed.

A lot of his initial impressions of Atsumu aren’t wrong – the vanity and arrogance are consistent, at the very least – but Kiyoomi quickly learns that Atsumu isn’t as lackadaisical as he makes himself out to be, earnest in his efforts and willing to put in the work. He finds that Atsumu is for the most part more _selfless_ than selfish, and cares far more than he lets on. He comes to realize that Atsumu compromises far more than Kiyoomi ever thought possible, and he _sees_ more than people think – Kiyoomi still remembers how dumbstruck he felt when Atsumu pulled out his favorite brand of wet wipes during weight-training, after Kiyoomi realized that he’d left his own at home.

Over the course of six months, Kiyoomi changes his assessment. Miya Atsumu isn’t necessarily a model alpha, but he’s actually a pretty good one – which is why when Atsumu offers to help him through his heat, Kiyoomi only needs to think over it a few times before he says yes.

He cleans his entire apartment three times before Atsumu is supposed to come over. He applies blocking patches the night before and leaves the fan running so there’s no trace of his scent lingering. He starts flushing the blocking pills from his system, despite how much he hates how it makes him feel while they’re working, because, for the first time, he _wants_ to know what someone smells like.

It’s only the night after his heat ends, when he’s lying in bed alone – thinking about the way Atsumu had left with a tired smile and a quiet “ _see ya at practice, Omi”_ – that Kiyoomi reflects on the past four days.

It was _good_ ; in fact, it went so well that Kiyoomi had to pinch himself a few times to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. Atsumu had come with an entire case of Kiyoomi’s preferred sports drink and an obscene amount of Kiyoomi’s favorite onigiri – specially made with _plastic gloves_. He had gone along with Kiyoomi’s insistence on showering and changing the bedsheets between rounds – he had fed him bits of rice alongside plenty of cuddles, and Atsumu fucked Kiyoomi so well that time had passed in a blur of pleasure and bliss.

He closes his eyes, inhaling, and lets the last bits of Atsumu’s comforting, lingering scent settle at the back of his throat. Fresh, clean rainwater during a summer storm and the spiced rum Kiyoomi drinks to calm himself when he’s having a rough day – Atsumu smells _safe_ , and it’s somehow both reassuring and terrifying, all at once. 

Kiyoomi stares up at his ceiling, chewing his lip contemplatively. 

He wonders if Atsumu would agree to doing this again.

* * *

> **[Omi-omi, 22:02]** — My next heat will coincide with our games against Kanagawa and the Hornets. 
> 
> **[Tsumu, 22:04]** — heh. missin my knot already omi? 
> 
> **[Omi-omi, 22:05]** — Nevermind.
> 
> **[Tsumu, 22:06]** — wait, wait, i’m kiddin!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> **[Tsumu, 22:06]** — YES i’ll help ya
> 
> **[Tsumu, 22:06]** — but only because i wanna crush riseki-kun and yer old captain
> 
> **[Omi-omi, 22:07]** — Predictable as always, Miya.
> 
> **[Omi-omi, 22:07]** — I’ll let you know.
> 
> **[Tsumu, 22:08]** — lookin forward to it ;)

**Author's Note:**

> ya know what that means: skts fuckbuddies, here we come! 
> 
> a few notes!  
> \- the title is adapted from 'angel of small death and the codeine scene,' by hozier  
> \- atsumu's scent is rainwater and dark spiced rum; kiyoomi's scent is japanese honeysuckle and japanese cedar. i wanted both of them to find comfort in each others' scents for different reasons, but i also think they mix well too!  
> \- on kiyoomi smelling "bad" - honeysuckle is often described as overwhelming and cloying and pungent. i imagine that kiyoomi's scent is strong but not any more so than a normal person; it's just that honeysuckle specifically can get really strong, and kiyoomi smells like he put on way too much cologne if he doesn't wear blocking patches....  
> \- i kind of alluded to it, but sakusa uses heat suppressants to go months without a heat. in this au, heats happen once a month for two days typically, but skipping one makes the next one worse, and so on. usually an omega can get through a normal monthly heat alone, but since sakusa has six months to make up for... lets just say he would've suffered a lot had it not been for atsumu  
> \- leaving this on an open ending, because fwb omegaverse has so much angst potential that i need to mentally prepare myself before diving into that mess.
> 
> \- edit 1: i.... forgot to mention that sakusa is on birth control like a dumbass asdlkd 🤦 i added a quick mention in there just to clarify~~  
> \- edit 2: oops actually since barnes is an OP, he wouldn't really be put in to replace sakusa, who plays the OH position... so welcome msby black jackals #18, subaru hondo. he's actually a canon character from mujinazaka and plays the OH position too, so he's sakusa's replacement for now - thank you to lara for calling me out on a detail i hoped nobody would notice LKJDKL 
> 
> p.s.: if anyone has twitter, my username is [@dalla_nebbia](https://twitter.com/dalla_nebbia) \- feel free to drop by and say hi! ♡


End file.
